


An Account of an Evening Aboard a Train, in which Certain Truths are Revealed

by Wildgoosery



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a time, Echelo and I would joke with affection that His Serenity only brought me along because he hated to manage his schedule slightly more than he dreaded my insistence on formalities. Yet even in those early years, before certain...<em>dynamics</em> evolved, I knew that in truth His Serenity preferred to have me at his side, and for reasons that went beyond my service.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Account of an Evening Aboard a Train, in which Certain Truths are Revealed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilpocketninja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpocketninja/gifts).



> Many thanks to [Paul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pts) and [Clio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh) for their help with this story.

As the First Secretary of His Imperial Serenity, Edrehasivar the Seventh, I of course accompany him on his excursions beyond the walls of the Untheileneise Court. His Serenity may sometimes be persuaded to accept the full retinue which is his due, but in recent years he has more often insisted upon an alarmingly skeletal arrangement: Ebremis and Isheian, kitchen master and server; his edocharei, Esha and Nemer and Avris; an appropriate compliment of Untheileneise Guard and of Captain Vizhenka's Hezhethora; whichever trusted courier can be spared by Captain Volsharezh; and all four of his nohecharei, whose presence is beyond negotiation. 

For a time, Echelo and I would joke with affection that His Serenity only brought me along because he hated to manage his schedule slightly more than he dreaded my insistence on formalities. Yet even in those early years, before certain... _dynamics_ evolved, I knew that in truth His Serenity preferred to have me at his side, and for reasons that went beyond my service. 

To begin with, His Serenity is more than usually attached to his household -- his "dav," as he's taken to calling us -- most particularly those of us who knew him as a boy just fetched from relegation, terrified and stubborn and apologizing for the shadow he cast on the ground. He and I speak little of that first morning in Edonomee, His Serenity barefoot in tattered hand-me-downs and I in courier's leathers, but I do not doubt that he shares my glass-sharp clarity of recollection. My life until that day had offered sparse justification for faith in strangers, but I had trusted him -- completely, unthinkingly -- before the _Radiance of Cairado_ had even returned us to court. And when His Serenity had spoken the handful of words which removed me from the Chancellor's service and welcomed me into his own, the shift had felt as natural as breath, as easy as a heartbeat. "If you could organize our household?" His Serenity had said, weary and hopeful; he may as well have said, "Welcome home," for that was how it had felt.

Ah, enough. I haven't taken up this project to write of that particular beginning. 

With my pen, I reach for a chilly Springtime some days past; to the fifth year of the reign of Edrehasivar the Seventh. His Serenity had just concluded a visit to the then-new steam train manufactories of the city of Amalo, which His Serenity had coaxed from the existing airship infrastructure despite the many bulwarks of obstinacy and self-interest which had stood in the way. After several days of admiring half-completed engines and attending formal receptions and listening to the concerns of workers' leagues, his staff and household had boarded a train bound for Cetho. 

His Serenity's nohecharei and the imperial guardsmen argued strenuously against his traveling by rail, but he is willing to exaggerate his fear of airships when convenient, and I admit his argument against the hypocrisy of promoting a new technology without utilizing it himself had merit. He had agreed to the precaution of three private cars -- one on either side for his household and guard, and one between them to serve as a sort of mobile Alcethmeret -- and these had served perfectly well on the journey north six days previous.

Remarkable, really, what can happen in six days. 

The Cethora line follows the river down out of the foothills until it reaches a junction west of Cethoree, where it splits into a pair of rails -- one headed southward to Zhaö and the other angling west across a new steel drawbridge toward Cetho. Bridge and junction alike are operated by a local chapter of the Rail Workers' Guild, then less than a year old and itching to renegotiate what they felt were unfair arrangements of both pay and scheduling. Unlike the rivers, the rail lines are owned and operated by the principalities through which they run. And when the lords of Thu-Athamar had expressed their disinterest in further talks with the Guild, the Guild had in turn gone on strike.

One supposes that a courier could have been sent in time to deliver this news _before_ we departed from Amalo, but in truth one was not. Which was how His Serenity came to spend ten days inside of a railway car on the eastern bank of the Cethora River.

Or rather, that is how the situation began. I must reluctantly reaffirm that the length of our stay was entirely due to His Serenity's refusal to take the easy road out of any situation, should that road be paved by his particular advantages.

"Our inconvenience is far more valuable to the Guild than that of merchants and sightseers," he had argued, first to his staff and then to the Guild itself via my hand. "Wealthier houses still prefer to travel by airship, and I doubt the lords would much concern themselves with the grumbling of common railroad passengers. But surely the lords of Thu-Athamar are reluctant to draw our personal ire, with the scandal of the House Tethimada so near behind them."

I had lain my pen on the desk, then, and looked at him. The set of his jaw was unmistakable. "Are we correct in our understanding, Serenity, that you wish to offer yourself as a hostage?"

He had grinned at that. "A bargaining chip," he had said. "And we would suggest to the Guild that there is no need to detain the other passengers further." In the cramped quarters of His Serenity's compartment, his nohecharei had stood barely an arm's length from my desk. As such, I could not help but hear the sound of strangled protest which Beshelar had made at that moment.

By then, we of the Emperor's dav knew well which arguments would not be won. I had dutifully transcribed his offer, had seen to its swift and secure delivery, and had gone about the business of establishing a workable household in miniature on the riverbank.

The days passed, if not quickly. A stream of couriers between our stranded rail cars and the Verven'theileian allowed us to conduct some part of His Serenity's business -- petitioners could wait for his return to Cetho but the governing of the Ethuvarez could not, and the Witnesses of the Corazhas sent such a volume of letters that my desk was quickly overwhelmed, necessitating a slapdash archive in one of the now-empty passenger compartments. 

The junction at which we found ourselves stranded was surrounded by fallow barley fields, and some considerable distance from the nearest town of any size. This eased the worry of the guards and nohecharei, as the stubble of last year's harvest offered no cover for would-be assassins, and from time to time His Serenity was even allowed to exit the train, stretch his legs and take in a bit of fresh air. But air and space were all the bedraggled brown landscape offered, and by sunset of the ninth day -- the day fixed in my mind when I presently set my pen to paper -- we were all of us far beyond ready to be quit of it.

Of course, His Serenity made every effort to appear unconcerned. "Please, offer our compliments to Mer Ebremis," he said to Isheian as she cleared what little remained of the evening meal. "We are once again astonished at what he has managed to accomplish with so small a kitchen."

She curtsied and slipped out of the compartment, carefully weaving through the flotilla of cushions on which most of the household sat. At home in the Alcethmeret, at least half of His Serenity's household took breakfast together nearly every morning, an informal "family meal" at which all of his dav was welcome. With no courtiers to entertain nor functions to attend, His Serenity's railcar dining companions were his to choose as he wished, and while breakfasts were abbreviated to gulping down muffins and tea, and luncheons were most often spent on court business, he enthusiastically welcomed us all into the receiving room of his personal car in the evening.

"Any word from the Guild today?" Nemer asked from his spot on the floor beside Avris and Esha.

His Serenity was seated on the room's only comfortable chair, which was upholstered in green brocade and bolted to the floor. "Some," he said, "although we are not certain how seriously to take the news." He turned to me with a weary smile. "Csevet, how did they put it?"

I was perched on the bench behind my desk, both of which were fastened within easy reach of His Serenity's chair. I held a glass of hot sorcho in one hand, but I shifted my papers around with the other until I found the letter in question. "Serenity, a representative of the Guild wrote to inform you of their intention to meet with Dach'osmer Clunethar and Osmer Lanthevel this afternoon, and assured you that they would not leave the table until they were satisfied."

"Voluntarily, perhaps," Beshelar rumbled from just outside the open compartment door, where he and Cala stood guard.

"The talks have so far been conducted on neutral ground, in the public halls of Bazho," said Kiru, who was tucked in between Telimezh and one of the off-duty guards on a bench along the wall. "You believe Dach'osmer Clunethar would have the workers forcibly ejected?"

"We believe we are not alone in our impatience for resolution," Beshelar said stiffly.

"We apologize for having trapped you all here with our politics," His Serenity said. "Selfishly, we have enjoyed this excuse to pass so many days in all of your excellent company. But we realize this has been an uncomfortable inconvenience."

Even from where I sat, with his face half-hidden by the door frame, I could see Beshelar's mortification. "Not at all, Serenity," he said.

"We will miss this, in truth," said Esha. "We have had quite a lot of time to read."

"We cannot remember when we were last able to persuade Kiru to sing in public," said Cala. "We, too, are glad for the change in routine."

"We have no volunteers for tonight's entertainment," I said. "Are you presenting yourself, Cala?"

"Actually," said His Serenity, and I turned to see his shy smile. "We feel it unfair to have so taken advantage of all of your talents with no contribution of our own. And do not tell me that it is your job," he added when I opened my mouth to protest. "None of your jobs involve juggling nor the lute." He stood and tugged at the hem of his jacket -- burgundy wool with white embroidery -- his ears twitching a little with nerves. "Tonight, we volunteer our own modest talents."

"Serenity," I said, a little exasperated, but he waved my protests aside. 

"As most of you know, we have been studying Barizhin," he said to the room, "and we have learned enough to manage children's songs and stories. Osmerrem Gormened has patiently taught us a rhyme from her girlhood, about a fish who believes she is a bird." His smile quirked at the corners. "Our voice is not very good, but we thought our attempt might amuse you."

"Serenity, you do not have to," I began, but everyone else was grinning at him. True to the Barizhan meaning, the majority of His Serenity's dav regard him with familial affection -- the fondness one might have for a brother, or a son, layered with the fealty due to ones emperor. They shouted encouragement as His Serenity squared his shoulders, and raised one hand to the ceiling in mimicry of an opera singer's pose.

His Serenity's voice was indeed quite untrained, graveled in the low notes and reedy when high. Without accompaniment, his rhythm had a tendency to wander, and while he remained within the rough borders of melody the effort which this required was obvious. But of course none of us cared a whit for any of that, myself included. When the little fish leapt into the sky at last, His Serenity's theatrical bow was answered by cheers and applause from all save Beshelar, who looked as if he would have preferred to melt into the wall.

" _Your pronunciation is very good, Serenity,_ " said Esha in Barizhin.

His Serenity smiled, embarrassed but pleased. " _We thank you for your tutelage._ " Another, broader grin for myself. "And we thank Mer Aisava for kicking our chair when our review of conjugation became audible in the Verven'theileian."

"In His Serenity's defense," I said, "Lord Pashavar was on something of a tear that morning."

Our talk continued as it often did, with Isheian refilling our warmed glasses of sorcho from a flask, and His Serenity laughing at our jokes and asking after our families and friends at home. He spoke little of himself, but we were all of us accustomed to his friendly reticence, and as pleased to fill this break from business with our chatter as he was to sit and listen.

After a time, a soft chime sounded from the clock on the wall behind me. Without comment, Kiru and Telimezh rose from their bench and went to see to certain personal business before the beginning of their shift. The guards left to attend to duty or to sleep, and we of the dav who would not see each other until morning exchanged our usual pleasantries. His Serenity allowed himself to be herded into his private chambers by Esha, Nemer and Avris. I stood and stretched my back and my arms. 

Kiru returned more quickly than was usual, and before she took Cala's place by the door she walked purposefully over to me. "He's been distracted since breakfast," she said quietly.

I had noted that myself, although I personally felt he had seemed ill at ease for days. "We expect he's anxious about his first day back in the Michen'theileian," I said. "He has near three weeks of audiences stacked up and waiting for him."

Kiru frowned. "Perhaps that is it," she said, although she transparently did not think so. 

"We will make certain to release him at a reasonable hour," I said. She sighed, offered a small bow, and was seated with Telimezh beside the railcar's main entrance when His Serenity finished with his bath.

As had become our custom on this unscheduled respite from court, we reviewed His Serenity's personal correspondence while his edocharei prepared him for bed. His car was divided into three compartments: a receiving room used for meals and business, a small private chamber where he dressed and slept, and a wash room. The distance between my desk and his pillow could be crossed in ten strides, and with the pocket door between chambers left open we could easily converse with one another.

"The Archduchess Vedero wishes to know your plans regarding her viewing party in two weeks' time," I said. "It is the same evening as your weekly meal with the prince and princesses, but she has taken care to specify that they have been invited as well."

"Oh yes, the comet," His Serenity said. He sat just beyond the doorway, waiting patiently as Nemer and Esha released his hair from its daytime adornments. It fell over his shoulders in a stream of curls, gleaming like black silk in the lamplight. "We had forgotten the night was so soon. This business," his gesture encompassed both train and strike, "has rather devoured the days."

"Serenity," I agreed.

"Which we realize is entirely our own fault, of course, so you needn't bite your tongue."

I smiled. "Shall we inform the Archduchess that you plan to attend?"

"You may tell our sister we would be delighted to view the comet in her company, the Rail Workers' Guild and their fortunes permitting."

I made a note, then reached for the next letter in my queue. The Empress' hand was immediately recognizable, and I noted with pride that her seal was unmolested -- I had selected the couriers for her personal use myself. The pale blue wax signaled a logistical missive, as opposed to a more personal one, and so I broke the seal myself and skimmed the letter's contents. "Csethiro Zhasan sends her regards," I said, "and wishes to know when she might expect your return. She has extended her stay in the Archduchess Vedero's apartments, but does not want to miss welcoming you home."

"Ah. Of course." His Serenity glanced at me through the doorway, looking unaccountably ill at ease. "Tell her to expect a personal letter tomorrow. In the meantime, please share our cautious hope of returning to Cetho within the next two days, and our promise to inform her of any changes."

Over the scratch of my pen nib I could hear the rustle of cotton and silk, the creak of a ribbon drawn tight, the groan of footsteps on the compartment's wooden floor. Their work completed, His Serenity's edocharei bid the both of us a good night.

He stepped from his room with what seemed a deliberate nonchalance and settled himself in the green chair. I had often seen him this way -- his hair braided down his back, his favorite quilted dressing gown tied over his nightshirt, his slender feet tucked into fur-lined slippers -- but that night he appeared acutely self-conscious, and fidgeted with his cuffs as he watched me fold and seal my note to the archduchess.

"Serenity, the remainder of your correspondence is not particularly urgent," I said, as if he were not practically glowing with anxiety. My time in his service counseled patience. I began to organize the stacks of paper upon my desk, unhurried as I optimistically secured them against the rattle of a train in motion. "If there is nothing else...?"

He pulled his dressing gown more closely about him and drew an audible breath. "Csevet, we realize it is already quite late, but we are afraid we must ask to impose on your time a little longer."

I smiled. "Not at all, Serenity, it is-"

"Your job, yes, but in this instance..." He glanced between myself and the door, where Kiru and Telimezh sat with politely blank expressions. This did worry me -- His Serenity had not been so obviously distressed at the presence of his nohecharei since his wedding night nearly five years past. "We had hoped to avoid this discussion indefinitely but it has become clear to us that we cannot. Please believe us when we say that we do not trouble you lightly. We apologize for involving you in our own messy weaknesses."

I turned in my chair to face him directly. "Serenity, your service is never a burden. It _is_ our job and we are happy to do it."

He winced at that, and looked as if he wanted nothing more than to abandon this conversation entirely and escape to the curtained privacy of his bed. But he did not -- he folded his arms over his chest, fixed his gaze on the wall behind me, and said, "You are aware of the arrangement between my wife and I."

 _Keep your ears up,_ I told myself. Aloud I said, "Serenity, we would not presume to-"

"Csevet."

"The matter has not been discussed with us directly," I said. "But we have guessed."

He crossed his legs at the ankles, visibly resisting an urge to curl into a ball on the chair. " _What_ have you guessed?"

I cleared my throat to buy a little time. How to word this? "We cannot help but observe the habits and movements of Csethiro Zhasan, as we are partly responsible for her schedule and frequently consult with her staff," I said, hoping my ears weren't as pink as they felt. "And in the course of our duties, we have come to suspect that the empress and your sister share certain...intimacies."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Csevet, we beg you to speak plainly."

"Serenity." I lay my hands upon my knees to keep them still. "They were lovers before your arrival at court, and have since continued their affair with your full knowledge and consent."

His shoulders lowered as some measure of tension unwound. "We had wondered how obvious that was."

"Not especially," I said, "to those whose opinions on the matter might concern you."

"We thank you for your honesty," he said, already distracted by yet another furtive evaluation of Kiru and Telimezh, whom I could see were making an effort to appear as if they were not listening.

"Serenity," I said, as gently as I could. "Is that all?"

He sighed, resigned, and at last his eyes met my own. "No. It is not." He sat a little straighter, a familiar stubborn tightness at the corners of his mouth. "We have spoken with Csethiro at some length about the terms of our personal commitment to one another, and we have come to agree with her opinions. We have never been comfortable with the burdens we have saddled her with, and while we understand the necessity of her marriage, and profoundly treasure the friendship and love which she has so generously shown to us, we refuse to demand an exclusive right to her heart...or to her bed."

His skin, the cool gray of a lake in winter, was too dark to show a blush. But I imagined I could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks as he continued. "She has insisted that we allow ourself the same...freedoms...which she enjoys. And this insistence has lead us to consider possibilities that would not otherwise have occurred to us." His throat moved as he swallowed. "And having considered them, we find that one in particular has proven impossible to ignore."

Ah. "Serenity, it is not at all unusual for an emperor to take a mistress," I said, as kindly as I could. "We absolutely understand the uncomfortable position of judging the trustworthiness of a potential companion, particularly as certain details of the goings-on at court are normally inaccessible to you. However, if you have a lady in mind, we would gladly endeavor to advise you, or to make discreet inquiries as necessary."

His ears lowered a fraction more with every word I spoke. By the time I had finished -- my voice far less confident than it had been to begin with -- they were as flat as I had ever seen them.

Rarely had I felt so conversationally wrong-footed. I am sure my face was blotchy with helpless embarrassment as I said, "Serenity, if we have misspoken, we sincerely apologize."

"You have not misspoken, so much as misunderstood," he said, plainly mortified. "We do not need your help in...in selecting a companion. Not at all."

"We are sorry to have presumed-"

"No! Please, you have nothing to apologize for." Another desperate glance at his nohecharei. "You have been nothing but honest and forthright with us from the beginning, and of late we have repaid you poorly. You deserve to know the truth of your own circumstances."

"Serenity, you do not owe us anything," I said, alarm now fluttering in my chest. "But if there is something you wish to tell us, we are glad to hear it."

He closed his eyes; inhaled and released a slow breath which trembled at the edges. "Csevet, I wish to be as clear as I possibly can. I have no expectation of a reply, nor of reciprocation of any kind. I give you this such that you can make the best possible decision for yourself and your own comfort." He withdrew a slip of paper from the pocket of his dressing gown, and looked down at it as if it were naked blade. Then he held the paper out for me to take. "I am sorry. If you wish to resign your position, I will not attempt to convince you otherwise."

"Serenity, why-"

"I may have surrendered my privacy forever," he said quietly, "but I will not drag you onto the public stage as well."

The paper had been folded twice over. Inside was a single sentence in ink:

_Csevet, I am in love with thee._

I could not immediately think of what to say. To have written it out so plainly in his own hand...to have included my _name_...

He had not given me a blade. He had given me a lit match, with which I could burn his good name to ash.

"I have spoken of this with Csethiro and no one else," he said, and had any part of me wondered if this were a joke at my expense, his somber intensity in that moment would have settled the matter.

I stared at the words. Read them over again, as if they might rearrange themselves between blinks. They did not. I felt lightheaded, my pulse too quick and my breath too shallow. 

"I see nothing objectionable," I said, and wondered at my own daring. "You need not conceal this from your dav for my sake."

I looked up at him. His eyes had gone quite round and wide. "That is kind of you," he murmured.

"Not kind," I said. "Or not only." A disused longing stirred behind my navel. "I have a confession as well."

"You do not have to barter your secrets," he said.

"No. But there is something I wish for you to know." I refolded the paper; held it tight between my fingers. "I am marnis," I said. "I have chosen a solitary life in your service, but my lovers have all been men."

He flinched, and I recalled how he had looked at me when I had last prostrated myself before him, now several years and many hours of pointed conversation behind us. "Csevet, your affairs are your own to conduct as you see fit, but please...I beg you not to sacrifice your happiness on the alter of my reputation."

In the stillness which followed, I could hear the breath of each of us; could hear his lips as they parted for words he then thought better of. 

The fixed bench at my desk creaked softly as I stood. I was not at all certain what I planned to do. "Serenity..."

"Csevet," he said, very soft. "I would consider it a great favor to me if you would use my own name."

I stood beside my desk and looked at him, for once beyond worry at being caught staring. I looked at his face -- at pale gray eyes which shone in the lamplight, at the pink tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips, at the curve of his neck, at scattered ink-dark freckles bourn of long afternoons on horseback in the sun. I looked at his hands; at his long fingers twisting in the fabric of his robe. The scrap of paper was a hot coal between my own.

I turned to Kiru and Telimezh and found them already watching me. He had more than once tried to articulate the admixture of oath and friendship and intimacy which bound him to his nohecharei, but in that moment -- so closely observed as I drowned in longing for their charge -- I realized I had not ever truly understood.

"I would be grateful for some privacy for the next little while," I said to them. My pulse roared in my ears.

Kiru smiled at me, nodded, slipped through the compartment door and closed it behind her. Telimezh pinkened and began a deliberate survey of the curtained windows.

"Maia," I said to him, and savored how it sounded in my voice. A single step closed half the distance between us. "What dost thou want from me?"

He stared up at me with so naked a hunger it rose gooseflesh on my arms. He said, "Only what thou wishest to give."

Another step, and my feet were between his on the carpet, his face at the height of my sternum and tilted up toward me. I could see the thrum of his pulse along his neck. I tucked the folded note into his dressing gown pocket, and with my emptied hand I brushed the pewter softness of his jaw. He exhaled sharply at my touch, a sort of strangled "ah" which dissolved what little remained of my own reticence. 

I leaned down, eyes open to any tic of refusal. When none came I pressed my lips to his.

I felt his hand at my waist; felt his thumb slide into the hollow beside my hip bone, urging me closer until I was somehow astride him in the chair, his mouth wet and open, my hands inside the collar of his dressing gown, devouring his clavicles and the fine hair at the back of his neck.

When I withdrew to collect my breath and my senses, he looked at me from under inkstroke lashes. And then, with an abruptness that made my heart jump, he burst out into laughter.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm sorry, I just...I cannot..." He reached up and took hold of my face with both hands. "Thou art _here_."

"I am," I agreed, bemused but not surprised. He had something of a history of ill-timed hysterics. 

Tears of mirth escaped down his cheeks, and he released my face to cover his own, his head tilted back against the chair. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice muffled and thick. "There is something deeply wrong with me."

"Dost thou wish for me to leave?"

"No!" he said, uncovering his face again and wiping at his eyes. The worst of the fit had passed, and when he chuckled the sound was a soft whisper of breath. "Csevet, I have rarely wanted anything more than thy presence here."

My eyes flickered down to my knees, tucked between his hips and the arms of the chair. "Here?" I asked, a little wry.

He took me by my waist; pulled me close and wrapped his arms about me. "Here," he murmured against my chest.

I brushed dark curls from his forehead; kissed it, breathing deep of his scent. We had never been so close to one another. "Maia," I said. "I must tell thee..."

"Another confession?" His lips were on the skin beneath my jaw.

I cupped the back of his head, my fingers between the plaits of his braid. I kissed the outer corner of his eye. "I wish to look at thee," I whispered. "I wish to lay thee out before me. And to look without having to stop."

"Csevet..."

"Thou are beautiful," I said. "And thou art dear to me. And I would show thee my affection with my whole self, if thou wilt allow it."

"Please," he said.

I stood, took his hand in mine and pulled him up. His arm curved around the small of my back, and he kissed me even as I backed toward the door to his bedchamber, laughing softly against my mouth when my heel caught the edge of the carpet. 

I could not help a glance at Telimezh, and I will admit in the privacy of my own account that a shard of worry still pricked me, then -- at what he must think of me and of what I now so clearly wished to do. His ears and face had flushed a deep rose, his efforts to appear at ease now comically inadequate. But when our eyes connected across the small compartment, he offered a near imperceptible nod before he turned his head to study a hatch in the ceiling.

The bed was fastened to the floor, its head flush against the wall and blue silk curtains hung from the ceiling offering some privacy. These were quite nearly torn down as I fell backwards through them, my hands too busy with the belt of Maia's dressing gown to push the drapes aside.

The robe discarded, he crouched with his legs astride my hips, his tongue describing the taut lines of my neck as he fumbled with the buttons of my jacket. I slipped my hands up the backs of his thighs, up under the soft cotton nightshirt, and murmured my approval at what so many hours on horseback had accomplished.

Maia's own voice was a litany of disbelieving curses, whispered and slurred together in puffs of hot breath against my skin, his mouth following the eager fingers which parted the placket of my shirt. He lost his momentum at the waist of my trousers, his face pushed into the hollow beside my stomach and his hands curling under me to lift my hips off the bed.

It seemed that in this, as with so many things between us, a nudge on my part would prove necessary to focus upon the task at hand. I sat, kissed him as I pulled open the strings of his night shirt, lifted it up and over his head. He yelped when I flipped him onto his back, a delightful sound which wound even tighter the clockwork spring of need in my stomach.

He groaned when I shed my shirt and jacket. "Thou wilt kill me," he said. "I cannot look upon thee and live."

I rose to my knees, my eyes watching his watching me as I unfastened the front of my trousers. "Thou art certain of this?" I whispered.

His reply was to yank my trousers down over my hips, and groan narratives of his own slow death as I wriggled out of them.

I did look at him, then, in the soft blue curtained light. I looked at the hand I lay on his skin, at my fingers tracing a path of dark curls along his chest and down his stomach, down to skim feather-light over the evidence of his desire.

One can imagine what followed. I recall it fondly and often myself.

#

When I woke, I did not immediately remember where I was, or with whom. Thin morning sunlight filtered through the curtains -- it could not have been long after dawn.

"Mer Aisava," Kiru said, her voice quite close. "A courier has arrived from Bazho."

Something unintelligible was murmured against the back of my neck, where my hair had come loose from its braids. Maia lay curled around me, his knees tucked up behind my own and a sleep-heavy arm draped over my bare stomach. He made a sort of slurred growl as I pushed myself up and sat crosslegged amidst the tangled covers.

I rubbed at my eyes. "How long have they been waiting?"

"No more than a quarter hour."

"Where?"

"We decided the public dining car would be best."

"Send for His Serenity's edocharei, they-"

"Are in His receiving room," Kiru said. She sounded very much like she was smirking, which I supposed was only fair. "They did not wish to enter uninvited."

I twisted to look down at Maia's face, now pressed against the side of my thigh. The eye which I could see was open and watchful. "I would not hide thee from my own dav," he said, too quiet for even Kiru to hear.

"Send them in," I said in my full voice. "But perhaps take a moment to ah...to warn them."

Maia rolled onto his back and stretched, his body arching in such a way that, under different circumstances, I doubt I would have allowed him to continue unmolested. "Art thou ready?" he asked.

His nightshirt was bunched against the headboard, and I passed it to him. "Not at all," I said. 

He kissed me as he took it from my hand. "Nor am I."

With all the distance of time, I am no longer certain quite what I expected that morning. Probably that I would dress myself as quickly and unobtrusively as was possible and slip back into my life as it had been the day before. Absolutely I did not think I would find Avris waiting for me beyond the bed curtains, a fresh change of my own clothes draped over one arm and a sealed letter in his hand.

"The courier seemed quite impatient for a response," he said.

I had ferreted out my underclothes from the sheets and pulled them on, but I read the letter with my bare legs hanging over the side of the bed. By the time I was finished, Avris had braided my hair into its usual tidy knot. "We are sorry to put you in this position," I said to him as he helped me with my shirt. "We did not mean to stay so long as to interfere with your duties."

"Not at all," said Avris. He smiled at me, pink in the ears but no more so than I likely was myself. "We are happy to see you happy, Mer Aisava."

Across the small room, Maia stood patiently as Esha and Nemer swathed him in white embroidered silk. They had not yet arranged his hair, and I could see where my fingers had pulled his braid loose.

I opened my mouth to address him, froze in a moment of indecision, and decided upon the option which seemed least absurd. "Serenity, the Guild and the lords of Thu-Athamar have arrived at a compromise, but it depends upon certain concessions which the Corazhas must authorize. They wish for you to hear their proposal and offer your own insights before they draft a formal request for the Witnesses to review."

The hands fastening his coat kept him from turning, but he looked back at me over one shoulder, his brows arched. "Have they suggested a location for this audience?"

"Should you consent, they would prefer to meet with you aboard this train at your earliest convenience. They have already set out from Bazho, and will arrive..." I reached for my pocket watch, realized it was still tucked into the jacket which lay somewhere on the floor of the compartment. "Shortly."

"If doing so would see us home in Cetho by nightfall," he said, "we would meet with them in the washroom."

The flurry of silk and tashin sticks subsided. The room emptied of all but Kiru, Maia and myself.

He turned to me, now resplendent in jewels and imperial white, the effect of cool solemnity entirely spoiled by his suncat smile. 

He took my hand and kissed the backs of my fingers. 

"Mer Aisava," he said, low and playful. His lips brushed my knuckles. "We would request an addition to our schedule."

"Of course, Serenity," I said. "It is our job."

"There is still so much of the Alcethmeret which we have not yet seen," he said. "The staff quarters, for one example, are almost entirely unknown to us."

"We are certain a visit can be arranged," I said.

He released my hand with obvious reluctance, and the two of us stepped through the door together.

  
[ ](http://alisonwilgus.com/ao3/maiacsevet.jpg)  


**Author's Note:**

> I love this book, and I love these characters, and I very much hope you enjoyed this take on them.
> 
> I'll spare you the details of the ridiculous playlist I made for myself over the course of writing this, but I will say that I've apparently decided that Gotye's [Save Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpV8j8P994U) is _actually_ about Maia and the people who care about him.
> 
> Merry Yuletide. 
> 
> <3


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